Bleeding Hearts
by JKrlin
Summary: Clan Skirata planned on protecting their own after the war. Family is more than blood, after all, Ruusaan Skirata not withstanding. What they didn't expect was to get roped into a whole mess with the rest of the Skirata bloodline as Ijaat Skirata looks for his long lost sister. The twist? Ijaat is a fully amored, Mando'a fluent Mandalorian. His dad will be more confused than proud.
1. Chapter 1

This was definitely not Ruusaan Skirata's first time in prison.

She worked in one, after getting her first educational diploma, in fact.

The Pols Anaxes Republic Detention Center was one of the better kinds of prisons out there. No one wants to be here, prisoners and guards alike, but no one takes it out on each other. Though mostly begrudgingly, everyone followed SOP, keeping their heads down and out of trouble. The atmosphere of sheer resentment and boredom inspired no inclination to distort the order of things.

Of course, the rowdy and more volatile prisoners were locked up in solitary confinement, but even then, they were plenty better than the precinct jail cells Ruusaan was shoved into during her teenage years. The rusting metallic cage was outshined by a well-insulated room, and she had a cozy little hidey-hole all to herself.

Had Ruusaan been a little less bitter, perhaps she could have gotten a regular cell to bunk with a mate, share some stories and make her imprisonment all the more bearable.

As it was, however, her pride would not allow her to surrender and admit defeat so easily.

The one thing almost every prison guarantees you is too much time to think things out. As Ruusaan paced in her cell, all she could think about was what went wrong and what could have gone right. There were people she could have saved, and there were people she should have killed. And, most importantly, there were people she should have _never_ trusted.

It was her fault that the rebels lost Khemerion. The Separatists withdrew from their alliance, the Republic put the dictator – _that she should have killed right then and there_ – back into power, and she was a trillion light years away from her home. Her family – that she could have saved – was gone or dead.

Well... her adopted family was dead. Her biological family, besides mom, was something she tried not to think about too much anymore. They could be alive or dead. All that mattered was that they were _gone_.

Then again, prison guarantees you too much time to think.

Ruusaan's train of thought dispelled with her pacing halting in an instant as her cell door opened. In walked the camp commander, the warden. He was a clone in a grey uniform, sporting a limp and sharing Ruusaan's unpleasant frown.

"No escort today, lieutenant?" Ruusaan asked, craning her neck to look behind the clone. The usual guard droid was nowhere in sight. "Do I get a prize for good behavior?"

He was still frowning. No-nonsense soldier, just like she used to be. Plus, she _did_ cave the side of his knee in: one of the reasons she was in solitary. "You are being transferred to a new location," he said as if he was reciting lines from a dull script, "off-planet, and you'll be escorted by an independent contractor, courtesy of the Premier of Surcaris."

Ruusaan was already as unmoving as can be. If she could be even more still, flinch or freeze, she would have. Because the Mid-Rim world of Sucaris hadn't had a Premier for six thousand years, except in the fairy tale books her daddy gave her when she was four.

The warden stepped back into the hall, allowing someone else to walk in. Ruusaan scrutinized the stranger, tall and aloof. He had purple armor vaguely reminiscent to a Republic clone trooper's, covering the body and limbs. A satchel hung on his side, and a kilt-like leather armament was wrapped around his waist. A _kama_ , the piece of clothing was called. Plenty of clones and clone commanders wore them, and the gang that started the trend happened to be the same gang that wore a T-shaped visor on their helmets. Quite like the newcomer before her.

"I thought you said we were done," Ruusaan stated once her initial surprise dissipated. "Done and over with."

"You're the one who says I can never keep my word," the Mandalorian replied, his voice as flat as wood. "I'm just proving you right."

"Don't take the piss out of me. Did you seriously track me down, all the way from Khemerion?" No, she didn't need to ask that. Of course he did. Who did Ruusaan think she was talking to?

"Friends in high places," was his excuse. He tossed her a pair of restraints. "Put them on. We have twenty minutes before the warden has to reboot the guard droid, then another ten minutes until the droid reports that you're missing from your cell."

"What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you?" But she already had the cuffs equipped, feigning her restraint, and they were already on the move. They each kept their chins high, their shoulders rigid. They were going on autopilot to ease out of their anxiety, focusing on their impromptu task at hand.

The droids didn't give them a single glance. The clone guards looked over once or twice but then went on about their own business. Some prisoners outright stared, but the two escapees were moving too fast to be seen for long.

"Ruu," the Mandalorian said lowly as they neared a doorway. It was the second-to-last checkpoint with guards posted, so he had his ID card ready for scanning. "I'm sorry."

 _That_ should have made Ruusaan flinch. Instead, she was as cold as an ice sculpture. "Tell that to everyone who died," she hissed back.

"You and I both knew it was suicide mission," he harshly bit back.

" _You_ were the one who said we had each other's backs. _You_ said you'd keep your word, and then you left us behind!"

They swiftly passed through the checkpoint with ease, and now they had the benefit of being completely alone and away from prying eyes and ears. "I might have left," Ruusaan's apparent savior replied with a sour taste, "but after everything was said, _you_ were the one who walked away."

Ruusaan thought plenty on what she would do if she ever met this particular person again. If he wasn't necessary for her assured escape from this prison, she would have knocked him down to his arse.

Their mutual silence persisted for a while. Both sides had more to say. Both knew it was not the place or time, however, and it irked them to no end.

"Excuse me, sir!" Mandalorian and would-be prisoner shifted their gazes to the source of the exclamation. A clone trooper with a rifle and a male prisoner in restraints were jogging, attempting to keep up.

The Mandalorian discreetly clutched and released Ruusaan's arm. _Play it by ear_. "Apologies, trooper," he said to their followers, "but the inmate and I have an appointment to attend to."

"Hold on, sir." The clone maneuvered around so that he was blocking the hallway. He held up a datapad. "The warden informed me of the inmate's transfer, but this woman may be using an alias and must be –"

"Any data you have will be out-of-date," came the Mandalorian's response in a heartbeat. He pushed his hand against the male inmate's face, hard enough so the prisoner fell back. The clone was pulled along with him, and Ruusaan's escort to freedom resumed. "As the warden probably told you, moving her immediately is top-priority."

Ruusaan silently gave the trooper, whoever he is, some credit. He was back on their trail in seconds. "My prisoner here," he continued, "can identify your prisoner's true identity right now if you just give us a minute."

The Mandalorian gave a push behind Ruusaan so she'd keep moving forward. She looked over her shoulder to observe as her handler began to walk backwards. He was giving the inmate with the scruffy beard a once-over with the clone making insistent gestures to stop.

"You weren't on Khemerion," the Mandalorian said.

The clone's upper torso shuttered, as if he was resisting a sigh. "He's a Separatist prisoner who can identify–"

"He wasn't on Khemerion. You intel's wrong, trooper."

The datapad was raised again. "I have all the information –"

"All Separatists and rebels who were on Khemerion and interacted with Skirata here are dead. I confirmed the kills myself. So your intel is _wrong_."

There was a look of – something, on the male inmate's face. Recognition or shock or whatever, Ruusaan did not know. Nor did she care since she and her companion were nearly home free, and there was no way in hell that some random clone and his pretty-boy captive were going to screw them over.

"But sir –"

Ruusaan's hand twitched. There were no witnesses around, so she was half-attempted to use her cuffs to choke out pretty-boy. Her _Mando_ buddy would be on the clone in a millisecond. It would most likely be messy, but that was nothing new.

It'd be like the things they've done together on Khemerion. Just like old times.

Unfortunately, another pair of clone troopers appeared at the end of the hall, heading straight for them. The clones were marching in sync at a fast pace, rifles in hand. At this rate, Ruu and her "friend" were going have to go guns blazing and improvise.

One of the approaching clones stopped mid-step. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

The Mandalorian pulled out his blasters. In one hand was the pistol that was hanging off his hip. He pulled back the hammer, inciting an echo from the revolving chamber. His other hand grasped the pistol that was holstered around his lower leg, more modern and compact in design. He aimed toward the initial clone's captive and at the clone who had spoken. Everyone froze, and Ruusaan instinctively hugged the wall, not wanting to get caught in a potential crossfire.

Faces can't be seen behind helmets and masks, but Ruusaan has been around enough people stacked in armor to notice when they uncomfortably stiffen.

"Sully?" the Mandalorian blurted aloud.

"Yeah, it's me," said whoever this Sully fellow is. The clone sounded mildly stunned while simultaneously weary. "Is this woman a bounty?"

"Bit more personal than that. Is she _you're_ bounty?"

"Well, it's also a bit more personal than that." Sully glanced over their surroundings before turning to his partner. Their look lasted just long enough for Ruu to grow curious and suspicious. "We're working for Kal Skirata. He heard his daughter was jailed and wanted to break her out."

She should have kept up her poker face, but Ruusaan's frown morphed into a thin line. She blinked a few times and straightened her back. "Kal Skirata?"

"Yeah, your father."

The bearded prisoner spoke up, watching cautiously. "We're not here to fight, and neither are you. We're here to help."

Ruusaan didn't know what to say. The name "Kal Skirata" went through her head many times during her stay in prison, and this was the first time she heard it be said out loud in over a decade.

The Mandalorian's pistols remained aimed and armed. "Can I trust you, Sully? You nearly got me and Ny killed on the last job we had together."

"But I came back, didn't I? And right now, you don't have a whole lot of options if you want to escape."

That final line was the deciding point for the Mandalorian. He holstered his weapons and resumed his rapid gait. Sully matched his pace to a perfect tee as everyone else scrambled to do the same.

"Who is this, Sull?" the clone who had accompanied Sully uttered quietly.

"He's _Mando'ad_. He'll play straight. Talk about it later."

The group was silent all the way till they entered a gunship and were leaving the planet's atmosphere. However, they could have been having a conversation on a secure helmet comm. The bearded inmate kept giving Ruusaan strange looks, but she only vaguely caught his glimpses as her mind continued to turn at the idea of Kal Skirata sending people to get her out of prison.

"Dad" was a word Ruusaan had written off in her vocabulary as something too personal. Most familial terms, actually, she had dropped off as too personal. But with "dad," things were… different. For both her adopted and biological fathers.

The Sull fellow was talking to the purple Mandalorian while one of the clones busied himself in the cockpit.

"Kal Skirata," Ruusaan murmured as she caressed her uncuffed wrists. "So he came for me. He really did."

"Of course he did," said the other clone currently unoccupied with a job aside from outright staring at Ruu. " _Kal'buir_ never forgets his family."

" _Kal'buir_?"

"Yeah… and that makes me your stepbrother, Ruu. My name's Fi." He took off his helmet to reveal his face, a hesitant smile being shown.

Ruusaan blinked a few times. _Kal'buir. Buir_. She was pretty sure that was the Mandalorian equivalent to _parent_. Her dad apparently adopted a clone, and she has killed a few of them during the war. "How did he find me?"

"Your brothers got in touch… eventually."

 _Brothers. Another word I'm not sure how to feel about._ "Has he forgiven me?"

"For what?"

"For never contacting him."

Fi suddenly appeared full of doubt. His face probably wasn't too far off from Ruu's own. He looked to the bearded inmate, who wasn't an inmate at all. Bardan Jusik was the name he introduced, and he seemed distracted and offered no words.

"You're back now," Fi finally chose to say. "That's all that he'll care about."

Sully snorted obnoxiously, crossing his arms. "Yeah, it will be one hell of a family reunion for Clan Skirata." He moved to slip between his fellow passengers to get into the cockpit. He pointed a thumb behind him. "Spar and I will stay on for now, but if _he_ is going to stick around, don't expect us to stay for long."

Ruu, Fi, and Jusik all looked to the _he_ , the purple Mandalorian. He had an arm draped across his chest with a hand stroking the lower part of his helmet.

"I don't think we've been introduced," Jusik announced, attempting a cordial smile. "Sull said we can trust you, but who exactly are –"

"So you've got the cure for accelerated clone aging," the Mandalorian interrupted. "Is that what you're paying Sully? Is it up for sale?" Jusik was speechless once more. Ruu rolled her eyes. Her "friend" could never pass up haggling, no matter the situation. If Ruu was still in the business, she might have done the same.

She turned back to Fi. "You said my brothers contacted…" What should she refer to Kal Skirata as? "… my dad. Which one was it?"

"It was Tor. He called." There was a quiver in Fi's lips. "He was worried about you."

"Really?" The last time she was on amiable terms with Tor, he had thrown her out of his apartment with a flimsy kitchen knife and a drunken rant, just because she had robbed a bank and needed a place to lay low. "First time for everything."

The purple _Mando_ faked a profuse cough.

"You don't count," Ruu countered. "Tor's always been honest at heart. You tried to get me killed that one time."

"… I didn't know it was you behind the mask."

"Attempted murder's still attempted murder, regardless of mistaken identity."

"Coming from a murderer," the Mandalorian muttered under his breath. Ruu's eyes flared.

"Don't you bloody start, _mercenary_."

"Yet I'm the only one in our family to earn a college degree. Legally."

"Joke's on you. Tor got his, _legally_ , while we were off playing bounty hunter." That stopped the _Mando_ in his tracks. "I sent an invite to you, for the celebrations. Didn't reply or send any message worth a damn."

"I… I was busy." Embarrassed, was he? He should be. "Clan stuff. It was –"

"Was what? Serious? Complicated? A loud of bull? You're starting to sound a lot like –"

Bardan waved his hands and stepped between the _Mando_ and Ruu. "There's no need for us to get so heated." He looked to the T-shaped visor staring past him. "You… you're Ruusaan's _other_ brother, aren't you?"

Ruu saw Fi fix the same nervous stare he was giving her now on the armored Mandalorian. The look reminded her a little bit of herself, when she was younger and unsure of where anyone in her family stood.

"That's right," Ruu's brother answered, as detached and cold as he could be. "My name is Ijaat Skirata. I'd like to know why my biological dad has a sudden interest in his blood family."


	2. Chapter 2

Kyrimorut was… almost exactly the kind of place Ruusaan expected her biological dad to live in. Isolated, remote, out of the way, well hidden from the rest of the galaxy…. It was like something out of one of the stories she remembered being told of, of the illustrious galaxy-trotting adventures of Mandalorian merc Kal Skirata. Her papa.

Her memories of Kal Skirata before the divorce were striking yet vague at best and childish reinterpretations at worst. She remembered him being her favorite parent, at least. No offense to mom, but Ruu favored her time playing with daddy's golden armor, ducking head under his shiny dome of a helmet, and listening to his romanticized tales over mom's stiff lectures of not eating the household bars of soap. Her brothers had agreed with Ruu's preferences tenfold, though it wasn't until the beginnings of their adolescent years when the youngest Skirata sibling realized how resentful Ijaat and Tor were of their father.

Ruu hardly understood why Kal Skirata had to leave the family at the time. Her mother was too vague in her explanations, and her brothers were absolutely silent. By the time they all started talking again, the damage was already done. Even if mom's new husband was nothing but supportive and spoiling to them all, there was always the overhanging bitterness in their new home.

Amidst all the family troubles and teenage dramas, Ruu began to fantasize of moving to a different planet, away from her family. Their downtown apartment was unbearably cramped and claustrophobic. Dad – her other dad, not Kal Skirata – liked to have the volume maxed whenever he watched a vid from his "classic" movie collection, which was practically every night before dinner. Mom, as sweet as she could be, was a pain in the arse when she was in one of her lecturing moods. And Ruu's siblings – don't let her get started on them. If Ruu had a credit for every time Ijaat had brought a girl home and wanted Ruusaan to cover for him with their parents….

Mandalore seemed to be going under its winter seasons. White snow covered the entire planet, from the flat plains stretching miles and miles to the veshok forests where Kyrimorut was located. The base consisted of an underground bunker, Ruu was told, with the top floor of the bunker camouflaged on Mandalore's surface. Ruu could see the dome from where she was leaning against a speeder with a tarp draped over it. The area around Kyrimorut was clear of most of the big trees, allowing a small expanse of land big enough for half a dozen reasonably sized ships to land. Nearby in the northeast was a frozen lake, visible down the horizon.

A ship or two were already parked in the bastion. A cluster of people seemed to be moving back and forth between the ships and the bunker. Some were in Republic clone armor, others in plain winterized clothes. They were obviously stressed about something or other. Perhaps it had something to do with Chancellor Palpatine's galactic-wide announcement of a Jedi coup, or something with this whole desertion business they seem to be running.

That one clone, Sull, he and Ijaat were leaning on the speeder beside her. After leaving Pols Anaxes, everyone seemed to be sweating bullets and wetting their trousers while talking on their comm links. Ruu didn't catch much of what was said, and she had been overwhelmed with a weariness she was not aware she had, falling asleep in the ship. The next thing she knew, she and her brother were ushered out of the ship with Sull acting as their guide.

"What's happening, exactly?" Ruusaan asked aloud, puffing clouds of vapor into the icy air. Kyrimorut's residents sent them sporadic glances but were mostly preoccupied with whatever it is they were doing.

"It's endex," Sull shrugged, his green Mandalorian armor plates shuffling over one another. "War's over, so Kal Skirata's pulling all of his favorite boys and girls out."

"Clone troopers are really deserting?"

"Yeah. Or they will be. Republic pay doesn't cut it. Mercenary work – that's where the big bucks are at." Sull turned his head, the rest of his body still as a statue. "So you're his daughter, _and_ you're Ijaat's sister."

"Yup." Ruu wasn't exactly sure who Sull was. A clone, yes, but she never met him on Khemerion. "I'm assuming you've worked jobs before with Ijaat?"

"I have."

"Did he treat you right? No backstabbing?"

A snort, from Ijaat. "Oh, if only you knew."

Sull shifted his look to Ruu's brother. "Never knew you were a Skirata. If I did, I would have never taken on that job with you." Ijaat just gave an unimpressed grunt. "Try not to get into any fights with anyone here. Kal Skirata still owes Spar and me our pay after springing Ruusaan, and I'd like to die of old age sixty years from now rather than ten to twenty." With that, Sull wandered off.

"I like him," Ruu said after a while. "He doesn't take any of your bull. Good man."

Ijaat didn't take the bait. When something was on his mind, he ignored practically everything else around him. "Why are we still here?" he asked. "We can leave, right now. I'm sure they won't mind if we appropriate a ship for ourselves and send it back later."

Ruusaan rolled her eyes. "You don't want to see what our dad's been up to? Why he decided to listen to Tor and send people to break me out of prison?"

"It's been thirty years, Ruu, and from what that clone, Fi, has been saying, Kal Skirata's already got a family for himself. We don't need him, and he doesn't need us."

"To you, maybe. But we – _I_ lost Khemerion. There's not much else I've got left. I want to see what he has to offer."

Ruu can tell from the way Ijaat let his arms slacken and his head dip down that he was getting quietly frustrated. He held it in though, of course. Her brother always preferred for things to go quietly and smoothly. Unfortunately for him, fate didn't always let him have his way.

When Ruu turned her gaze back to the erratic crowd, her attention was drawn to the sound of shoveling snow. She observed a small shallow trail, a long line of depressed slush beginning from somewhere near the parked ships Her eyes followed the trail, and at the end was something the size of a newborn womp rat gradually dragging itself toward Ruu.

It was a human baby, Ruu soon realized. It was a tiny toddler with a blanket wrapped around it. It's arms pulled the baby forward, the cloth around it leaving the long semi-circled cavity behind it. As the child came closer, Ruu could make out the dark brown eyes and the short black hair on the boy. He gave a tiny smile as he approached.

"By the Force," she heard Ijaat mutter, "is that a kid? If he's Clan Skirata, does that make us his aunts and uncles?"

Ruu ignored him. The cute child made motions for her to pick him up, so she did. He gave an excited cry as Ruu snuggled him in her arms. She couldn't remember the last time she was this close to a happy, innocent child. All the ones back on Khemerion were either depressed or dead, Force have mercy on them.

"And who are you?" Ruu asked the toddler. The infant pulled at her shirt collar. She hadn't changed out of her prison uniform, and the fabric seemed to be different from the child's blanket. Then the kid started poking and feeling Ruu's cheeks. Laughing would only encourage him, so she held him slightly away from her, keeping her lips in a thin smile.

"Hey, Ruu," her brother jabbed her elbow, "eyes up. Got incoming."

A Republic Commando in obsidian black armor and a young woman with reddish brown hair were jogging toward the Skirata siblings. The clone had his helmet off, and the woman let her long strands run freely. The panic in their faces was as obvious as the excitement in the baby's.

"Kad," they seemed to call out. "Kad! _Kad'ika_!" She let them take the child away from her arms. The clone seemed to be slurring words under his breath. "I just set him down for a second. Just a second." They moved farther away before Ruu could catch any more snippets, though Ruu's intuition gave her a pretty good idea why they seemed so worried.

"You ever miss being a kid?" Ruu asked loud enough for Ijaat to hear. "Before life decided we could never get a good night's sleep for the rest of our days?"

"Yeah. As if life was ever that lenient with us."

The congregation of folks almost paused together as the couple and their baby moved toward the bunker. The unhelmeted members of the mob clearly stared at Ruu and Ijaat for a moment, and some of the helmeted clones and _Mandos_ probably did, too. They went back to whatever it was they were doing once one of the _Mandos_ took a step away and walked toward the siblings.

It was a Mandalorian in gold armor. He removed his helmet, letting his wrinkled face, white hair, and prominent cheek bones show. If anything, he looked just as shocked as Ruu must have looked when she was told of Kal Skirata wanting to see her again.

"And the prodigal father returns," Ijaat murmured. Ruu punched his elbow to shut him up. He owes her anyway, and she _needs_ this.

The Mandalorian stopped about a meter away from them. He was discreetly glancing back and forth between Ijaat and Ruu. Ijaat gazed back safely from under his armor and visor. Ruu was blatantly staring at those blue eyes, the exact same hue as hers.

"You okay, _ad'ike_?" Kal Skirata asked. It was a little hesitant, but the same assertive and fatherly tone Ruu had once loved to listen before was still there. " _Ad'ike_ – _Ad'ike_ means –" He cut himself off, giving Ijaat an undiscernible look.

"My Mandalorian's a little rusty," Ruu answered up, "but _ad'ika_ means daughter, son, children. Something like that."

"Yes…" Kal looked back at Ruu. "I suppose I should start simple. I'm sorry. For not being there, all those years."

Age-old instincts rose from Ruu: the compulsive, reactive fallback to joking repartee. "Well, I was given 35 years to life back in prison, so it looks like you've made up for some of that lost time after breaking me out."

Kal was still wary, but at least his apparent optimism appeared to parallel Ruu's. "Where are you planning to go from here?"

"From here? Well, from what the extranet's been saying, the war's over. Looks like the CIS lost, so I'm out of the job. Maybe I could… stick around, get some career advice… from you." Kal beamed. "If you've got the time."

"Of course I have, sweetheart."

Ruusaan Skirata was taken back to a time when she believed the whole of her family was actually happy. Despite whatever grievances she may have, she was starting to feel like a little kid again, looking up to her dad for his whimsical and other worldly guidance.

Ijaat Skirata, however, shared none of her sentiments.

"I didn't know what you would do when I sent you that message." he piped up, forcing a neutral tone. "I never would have thought you would have gone out of your way like this."

Ruu snapped her around. "You _contacted_ him?"

"I sent two lines of text. Never got a response." Ijaat met her furious look easily. "You were missing. I couldn't find you. I was getting… desperate."

"Really?" Ruu scoffed. "You're giving me all this _dwang_ for wanting to see our dad, and you went and called him first. What about your precious clan? Why not ask _them_?"

Even after all this time, they were about to spring back into another one of their useless, stupid arguments where the only time someone will concede defeat is when Mustafar freezes over. But Kal Skirata caught them before they plummeted down that bottomless abyss.

"How's Tor?" he said loudly. "Is he also _Mando'ade_ , or…."

Ijaat looked back to dad. "You found Ruu. Go find Tor and ask him yourself." Ijaat pushed himself off the speeder, standing half a foot over dad's head. Ruu stretched her arm against Ijaat' chest, to stop him from making blows or so he didn't walk away, she wasn't quite sure.

"Stop being so petty," Ruu demanded. "He's trying to be nice. Why can't you do the same?"

"He had thirty years to _be nice_ , and he couldn't even be there for mom's funeral." A flash of hurt danced on dad's face. "I didn't come here for him. I came for you, Ruu. If you want to stay here, fine. I'm leaving."

Dad stepped in front of Ijaat when he shoved Ruu's arm out of his way. "I understand if you don't want to talk, but we need to, since you know about Kyrimorut now."

"What, do you think I'd sell out your clone retirement business to the Republic?"

"It's just so we all know the score. You can't blame me for being cautious, son."

The moment "son" slipped out was when one of the clones – an ARC trooper, Ruu judged from the armor – materialized behind Kal Skirata. " _Buir_ ," he said in a stoic voice, "Vollen commed in. We need to prepare Kyrimorut for her arrival."

 _Buir_. So this was another one of Ruu's new siblings.

"Vollen?" Ijaat's harsh tone raised an octave, sounding surprised. "Nyreen Vollen? Is she on your payroll?"

"Not–" Dad had the look of a man whose heart skipped a beat. "–exactly."

The helmeted clone set his gaze clearly on Ijaat. "We can't allow you to leave until we have assurances you won't risk exposing this operation, this base."

Ijaat waved a hand dismissively, keeping his eyes on dad. "I'll stay, to see Ny." The clone flinched, as if he wanted to take a step forward and get up close to Ijaat, but he held himself back.

"You don't decide when you want to leave."

"Whatever you say, _ner vod_."

Ruu hustled her brother away from dad and the clone. The last thing anyone needed was blown-out fight. Granted, the clone appeared adamant in remaining unmoved, but Ruu didn't know him well enough to know if he would let Ijaat's snark get to him.

"Ignore him." Ruu glared at Ijaat until he sauntered off, going toward where Sull and his other green _Mando_ buddy were hanging around. "He's still pissy." She met the ARC trooper's scrutinizing stare. "So, I'm Ruusaan Skirata. And you are?"

"Ordo," he introduced himself, "Skirata." Ice cold, he was. He was going to get along swimmingly with Ijaat.

"Relax, _Ord'ika_." Dad placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ruu, this is another one of my boys. He just wants to get to know his new siblings better." There was a sliver of teasing dad was giving, but its forcefulness was too evident.

"I don't mean to offend," Ordo continued. "I just don't know how to deal with you."

 _You and me both_. "Likewise. I'm just excited to get to know my dad again."

Ordo let his thousand yard stare persist for a few moments before he walked away. Ruu and her dad went back to exchanging uneasy smiles.

"Where do you want me to start?" dad said. "My side of the story? Yours?"

"No, let's hit the reset button. What's the phrase? _Cin vhetin_. We begin again." And life really, _really_ needed a reset button. It would have fixed a thousand mistakes, though Ruu suspected she'd make the same ones again anyway. She may as well settle with patching up the things that she still can.

Father and daughter leaned across from each other, almost relaxed against the speeder. "Tell me what your life's been like, _ad'ika_. I want to hear it all."

For Ruusaan, it was like a childish dream come true

But her adult side couldn't forget that one of the brothers whom she grew up with was standing not 50 feet away.

" _Mando'ad draar digu_ ," Ruu articulated carefully. "A Mandalorian never forgets. That's the translation."

"Yes, it is."

"So you never forgot about us. Me, Ijaat, Tor, mom."

"I never could."

"When mom remarried, she wanted us to never mention or reference you, like you never existed. We knew that you were sending us credits, but mom would always go on a tirade whenever your name came up. Kept us distracted from talking about you, I guess."

Dad looked hurt again, only more controlled this time. Ruu wondered what was worse, losing the people you care about because of uncontrollable circumstances or because they left you of their own free will.

"Some of the details might be messy, but we still remember what it was like when you were still around. We couldn't forget either." Ruu glanced at Ijaat, quietly conversing with Sull in the distance. "Each of us remembered you a little differently, though."

Dad took in an audible breath. "What do you mean?"

"Mom remembered you as a ghost. Tor saw you as his tuition backer. I remember the grizzled old man who always came home with neat gifts and colorful stories, and it looks like that part hasn't changed at all. And Ijaat… long story short, _munit tome'tayl, skotah iisa_." _Long memory, short fuse_.

Ruusaan got her dad back, and all Ijaat can see is the man who abandoned his family.

It was going to be tough patching up this mess, Ruusaan knew for sure.


	3. Chapter 3

Night had fallen over Kyrimorut, the majority of its residents having retired to bed long ago. It was a… a long day, longer than anyone had planned or would have liked.

Kal sat in the chair nearest to the fireplace, the flames in need of another log soon to keep burning. He relaxed his back against the backrest. He was dressed in a small bundle of clothes with a blanket draped over his lap for the cold. _Kad'ika_ was in his arms, the boy sleeping soundly without a care in the world.

Yesterday had been only the second time Etain and Darman were able to spend any significant time with their son since he was born. Yesterday was only the second time since Coruscant when they had the chance to act like a normal family. Kal still kicks himself every day for ever forcing Etain to keep Kad a secret and hiding him from Darman. What right did Kal have to keep someone's son away from his parents? Kal was a family man, through and through, and he does this to his own two kids?

Clan Skirata was virtually dead by the time Kal joined up with Jango on Kamino. Now, it was Kal's responsibility to make sure his boys and girls carry on the Skirata name and get the chance at life they deserve.

If only he could have done the same for his first children; for Ruusaan, Ijaat, and Tor. Kal would have given anything to be with them and Ilippi again. Though Kal's clan is his top priority nowadays, he couldn't help but let his thoughts drift to what could have been.

Ruusaan was willing to give Kal a second chance, and Kal thanked whatever god or deity in the galaxy there was for that. Tor seemed to be somewhat willing to reconcile with his _dar'buir_ from the brief conversation Kal had with him, but Ruu explained he was quite the successful doctor and university professor on Corellia. He was neither a soldier nor a mercenary nor a criminal. Kal could not compromise the peaceful life Tor built for himself. Tor was happy and content. It would be against everything Kal is trying to create here on Kyrimorut, a place where disillusioned, misguided souls could finally live the life the galaxy never let them have.

As for Ijaat…

From where Kal sat, he was able to see the kitchen lights turn on. He could see a silhouette open the conservator. There was the sound of glass jingling together before the figure closed the conservator's door and entered the fireplace area.

Ijaat was still suited in armor from head to toe. He held a bottle of alcohol – it was too dark to distinguish the brand –in his hand. Kal watched his son take the seat across from him. Ijaat lifted his helmet just high enough to take a jug of his drink before bringing the helmet back down.

Kal knew he shouldn't have been so optimistic when he was reunited with his blood family. Ruu had been very forthcoming with him, but Ijaat was understandably cold. One of the last things Kal taught Ijaat before leaving was the importance of family, and then Kal had to leave that family. He could never blame his son for the animosity. Kal probably would have done the same if it had been Kal's own father that had walked out on him.

"I spoke with Ny," Ijaat said suddenly in his gruff and almost affable voice, as if he was starting a conversation with an old friend. "It's good she's that she's still keeping herself busy. I'm almost surprised she's still in the smuggling business, considering what we went through with Sully. Would have expected her to stick with legitimate freighting after that, to be honest."

Ijaat was being nothing but polite with this conversation, Kal told himself, nothing more. Kal decided to play along. "How do you and Ny know each other?" Kal made sure to speak lowly to ensure _Kad'ika_ slept in peace.

"The captain of my crew knew in her in a past life – long story." Ijaat ducked his head and waved a hand to the side. "He had me do some jobs for her, mostly protective detail. She's one of the more generous employers that I've been fortunate enough to work under. I try to keep in contact with her, see how she's holding up." Ijaat lifted his helmet again to take a quick sip. "If I'm being honest, though, a human at her age should retire by now. You stay in this business for too long, the stress along might just be what does you in… as I'm sure a man of your age ought to understand."

Yes, Kal was starting to feel his age more and more every day. He should be asleep at this hour, but Kal would always make time for his sons.

"And I have to be honest with you," Ijaat continued, "you do look like you're getting old." He stood up, wiping imaginary dust off his lap. Ijaat neared the fire, standing before it with Kal looking on from his right. The light of the flames reflected off Ijaat's visor. "Ruu's going to be very disappointed if you happen to drop dead from organ failure or something like that before she gets the chance to be daddy's little girl again, and it's not a pretty thing when you disappoint her." Ijaat held his bottle forward and let his drink pour into the fire, the flickers of the blaze rising in response.

"I may be old," Kal said with the confidence that age granted him, "but I don't plan on dying any time soon."

"Neither do I," Ijaat agreed, drinking again, "and neither does Ny or Ruu, or anyone else you've got working in your motley crew." Ijaat gave his father a sideways glance. "It's a shame that we've all got to die at some point, though, your clone boys especially. Force knows what's going to happen with that grandson of yours, considering his heritage and bloodline."

Kal felt his wrinkly fingers clutch around _Kad'ika_ ever so slightly. Ijaat was keeping up the classic tough-guy act many mercenaries – including Mandalorians – tend to use, that was all. He was only testing the waters to see how his estranged father would react to –

Ijaat whipped out his blaster, the one with the revolving mechanism. He cocked the gun as he aimed the barrel right between Kal's eyes. With Kal sitting and Kad around his arms, there was hardly a thing Kal could do if Ijaat decided to fire.

"I could probably kill you now," Ijaat considered casually, "throw your carcass into the fire here, toss a grenade in the kitchen, set this entire installation into flames, take the kid, and hijack a working ship before the hour's over." He drank again, all the while keeping his blaster at the ready. "I'm sure that the Republic's willing to pay some good spice for a kid with the genes of Jango Fett and midichlorians in his system. If I play my cards right, I bet I can retire just from what I make from the kid, let alone selling you and your Clan out."

This was Kal's worst fear being realized. His own blood was threatening to destroy everything. If it was just between Kal and Ijaat, he'd be more inclined to let his son finish off a grudge thirty years overdue, but he was threatening _Kad'ika_ , _Ord'ika_ , _Et'ika_ , and everyone else. Kal should not have his guilt and nostalgia get the better of him. He should have known better. No matter what emotions fueled Kal's conquests, he always had to be smart about carrying them out. It was what he taught all of his children, and Ijaat was taking full advantage of that lesson.

It was probably Ijaat's stepdad, maybe even Ilippi who taught him how to be so sharp and controlled. Kal never got the chance.

However, Ijaat pushed the hammer forward, raising the blaster toward the ceiling. The tilt of Ijaat's head suggested drunken playfulness on his part. "But if I did all that, I'd be disappointing Ruusaan all over again, and you have no idea how many times we've disappointed each other over the years. I don't know if my poor heart can take any more of it." After holstering his blaster, Ijaat lifted his helmet to above his nose, downed the rest of his drink, and plopped himself back on the chair. His limbs were loose and sagged over the armrests. He should not be too drunk at this point, but he was obviously fighting against some fatigue.

"I haven't been there for you or your siblings for a long time," Kal said cautiously, putting in just the right amount of honesty and professionalism a good father and Mandalorian ought to give. "You don't have to accept my apology, or my... goodwill." Ruu did mention something about Ijaat's reluctance in accepting all the credits Kal sent them and Ilippi. "I have my Clan to take care of, as I'm sure you have yours, but I still want to at least try to… appease you and Ruu and Tor." _To make things right_ , is what Kal wanted to say, knowing too well that it could very well be a gigantic impossibility for his blood sons. "So long as it doesn't compromise Kyrimorut or anyone else who ends up living here."

Once Kal said his piece, Ijaat stared into his father's unblinking eyes in silence. Though Ijaat's drink helped spark the fireplace's flickers, it was now beginning to dim. Half of Ijaat's helmeted face was shrouded in darkness, the other side slanted with a look of askance.

Ijaat snapped his fingers into the air before pointing them toward Kal. "You know what?" Ijaat asked. "Let's cut the _osik_. You don't know me, I don't know you, you want to know me, and I only want to know more about you to make sure you'll treat Ruu right. Like I said, it's not a pretty thing when you disappoint her. I should know."

So he cares deeply for his sister, and her wellbeing, and Ruu reconciled that attitude for her brother to some degree. At least that was something Kal knew he could be proud of. "I would never –"

"And lucky for you," Ijaat went on, interrupting Kal, "I've got a soft spot for your clone crew. After all, they're a prime example of the Old Republic's hypocrisy. A ban on slavery but sanctioned use of a slave army? Hilarious." Ijaat let his arm fall as he straightened his back against the chair. "I have to admit that your clone retirement home here is an ambitious thing you've got going. If your name wasn't Kal Skirata, I might have offered my services in helping maintain security for this place – for a good fee, of course. Good service doesn't come cheap."

Good service isn't hard to find when you're constantly embezzling millions upon millions worth of credits each day. "Money won't be a problem if that's what it takes for you to stick around."

"Money's not what I want, believe it or not," Ijaat corrected, albeit with a small ounce of resentment. "I want… let's say _reassurance_ that you will take care of Ruu just as much as you would for the rest of your adopted children."

Kal let the thin line of his lips fall completely into a frown. "I know you don't have much reason to care for my word, but I can promise you that I will."

"Yeah. That's not good enough. You might have found Ruu, but I poked my head around Kyrimorut and discovered some interesting intel. The whole desertion from the GAR plan didn't work out. Some of your clone boys are currently missing."

Ijaat was right. Not everyone in Clan Skirata managed to make it home after Order 66. It was a close call retrieving Darman and Etain safely from Coruscant, but they lost track of Niner in the commotion and chaos. Walon was making plans to track down Sev, who was still MIA on Kashyyyk. Delta might not have wanted to leave the army, but Sev was still Walon's boy and had to be found. Jaing – Kal didn't even know what happened to Jaing. Kom'rk had crash-landed 30 miles south of the nearby trading town, Enceri. He was half dead and delirious, spouting incoherent mumbles and whispers when Parja found him. Kal knew Mij would take good care of him, but that still leaves the question of what happened to Kom'rk's partner in crime.

Ny must have told Ijaat, or maybe it was Sull. It hardly mattered.

"You've lost people under your watch, lost _family_ ," Ijaat practically spat the word, "right under your entire clan's noses, yet you found time to take back Ruu under your wing. To be honest, it's giving me mixed signals on your priorities, and the last time the chieftain of a family gave me mixed signals, he convinced Ruu to fight in the Clone Wars – a fight she inevitably lost and get sent to jail for."

 _Kad'ika_ breathed out a sleepy yawn. Kal gave Ijaat a stern glare, the most that the elder has gotten to being truculently confrontational with his estranged son.

"So, I've come to a decision." Ijaat picked himself off his seat, standing tall. At Kal's puzzled look, Ijaat stretched his arms wide. "I work for you. I help you find your missing sons. In return, you stay close to home and treat Ruu like the daughter the crazed, senile, and family-obsessed Mandalorian that the _Mando_ grapevine says you are would."

While Kal was not very surprised of what some Mandalorians saw him as, he was more focused on his son's proposition. "You want to… work for me?"

"Yes. I hereby offer my services to Clan Skirata. I will assist in your efforts to investigate the disappearances of your clone sons. I will go through my own series of contacts and informants whilst also working in tandem with your own agents in order to find them. I will hold any and all information gathered during the investigation confidentially with Clan Skirata. In return, you will provide me with sanctuary, supplies, and sustenance for the duration of the investigation."

Was… Was Ijaat negotiating a contract between himself and Kal?

"And you _will_ treat Ruu right." Ijaat looked down and seemed to chuckle at something. "I know she can take care of herself when push comes to shove, but you don't live this long as a mercenary without being thorough, and I _revel_ in being thorough with the people and clients I work with."

So Ijaat has barely a sliver of trust toward Kal, even after orchestrating a plan to break Ruusaan out of prison. The only reason Ijaat hasn't gone to war against Clan Skirata is because of Ruu. "Like you said, I've already lost family. I don't need any more incentive to take care of Ruu."

"I don't care about you. _I_ need more incentive to make sure you take care of Ruu."

Ijaat and Kal stared at one another in silence once again.

Ruusaan was right. There was hardly a chance Kal could begin again with his second oldest like he can with his blood daughter. Still, whatever his reasons are, Ijaat was willing to stay, willing to meet and work with his adopted brothers and sisters. No matter how miniscule, there was still a chance.

"If you need any second-opinions on my capability," Ijaat said as he relaxed his body, "contact Clan Vencuyot. They'll give you all the details you'll need."

And the chance of Ijaat and Kal ever becoming the picture perfect family Kal has dreamed of got smaller. Clan Skirata might have a hesitant hand offered to Ijaat, but he will always have his own clan with arms open to take him back in. Kal may not know much of Clan Vencuyot, nor have met many of their members, but he does know that the clan is known for their ironclad loyalty. Ijaat already has a family he is most likely happy with. Kal cannot compete against that.

As Ijaat left the fireplace – likely to bunk with his sister for the night – Kal looked again to the toddler in his arms. _Kad'ika_ 's eyes were wide open. He looked at his granddad with a broad smile.

Kal remembered some of the names that were being brainstormed for Kad. Venku was one that came up. It came from the Mandalorian word _vencuyot_ , meaning "future." Venku was a name denoting a positive future. Perhaps Ijaat joined his clan because he saw a successful future there, a good life as a mercenary and as a Mandalorian.

Kal still needs to ask how Ijaat became a Mandalorian. However, considering how Kal still doesn't know all the details of how Ilippi died, how Ruu became a Separatist, who became his blood children's stepdad, or why his blood children still carry the Skirata name, Kal isn't sure how melancholy Ijaat's embrace with Mandalorian culture will be in comparison.

* * *

 **Hey, reader, do you enjoy reading about fan-crafted works on Mandalorians, and of their long fictional history and culture? Well, I've just got the story for you! T'is titled, "Not Your Kind of People," co-written by myself and fellow _Mando_ enthusiast _BackgroundRobot-11_. It features ****_BackgroundRobot-11's_ character Ambu Kelborn, a ****former Mandalorian,** **sharing a drink with my interpretation of Ijaat Skirata, the pair discussing their views on Mandalorian-related topics and philosophy. It can be found on FanFiction along with on DeviantArt, under the same name. So, if you've got the time, check it out!**


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